notes from june: is my pussy dried up?

Strange month for a plethora of reasons. Struggled to keep up with work. Felt weird about everything. Had health problems. Started a new medication to try to prevent anything bad from happening to me ever again. Ended up at my boyfriend’s brother’s wedding in California.

Here are my notes from June:

• I saw a girl wearing a “this is what a feminist looks like” t-shirt today for the first time since 2015, and it actually gave me SUCH a strong sense of peace. I thought about her the whole day, about her views and her chosen reality—that she woke up in the morning and unironically chose that shirt as a signifier of the fight that she is currently fighting. She rejected modernity and embraced 2015.

• Was asked out by a young man who used “fuck it… let’s just go to the arcade” as a pick-up line.

• Was asked out by a young man on the subway when I was wearing a “movie outfit” (an outfit you wear as an act of radical comfort while you sublet a theater seat for 2-3 hours).

• Discovered that the cornstarch in my boyfriend’s kitchen sounds like a horse.

• Spent a whole 30-minute bus ride trying to spell destruction.

• I ate a donut the other morning, the frosting was a deep pink. I guess it was supposed to be pomegranate or strawberry flavored, but when I brought it to my mouth I noticed the frosting smelt unmistakably like period blood. Yeah. The whole experience was quite disgusting, but I had to eat it very enthusiastically because the person who bought it for me as a kind gesture was sitting across from me and I didn’t want to appear ungrateful and evil.  

• My boyfriend goes to bed early, and I stay up late, which is tricky because I hate being awake in a room where another person is asleep, so lately I’ve taken to performing for him before bed. 2-3 minutes of the most vigorous dancing my body can make to help tire me out. He watches through tired eyes, clapping and laughing. I’ve taken a liking to performing LEMON by N.E.R.D feat. Rihanna (x) and On The Floor by Jennifer Lopez feat. Pitbull (x), both of those songs really allow me to showcase all my talents and get as creative as possible, especially with floorwork and lyrical interpretations. This is also a perfect exercise for us because it fuels both of our most dire needs; my need to perform and be excellent, and his need to watch me perform and be excellent.

• You know it’s summer in Brooklyn when you can’t tell if someone your speaking to is in a k-hole or just has a lazy eye.

• I’ve decided that I will no longer be purchasing Bread Alone brand bread anymore. I bought it originally because I thought it would be a nice thing to do for myself, but holy shit. I want to send nothing but hate towards everyone involved in the creation of these loaves; every assumption they’ve made about me is wrong. They think I am the most notorious bread fiend on the East Coast. They think I have six children who are allergic to everything but toast. They think I want a side of bread with every breath I take. 48 hours is not enough time. I simply cannot digest their bread as fast as they want me to, and as someone who isn’t exactly rolling in it this is so annoying.

• Opened Instagram to a message I think nobody ever wants to receive; a male fashion blogger tagging me, begging if I could stop my dad from commenting hate on his Instagram reel about the worst men’s clothing items in history. I’ve caught my dad in the act of internet hating before but never said anything because I believe in his right to hate freely, but I did call him after I saw this. I don’t understand his chosen insult, I don’t understand what Mr. Paperweight means, but it obviously struck a chord.

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• I attended a 17-year-old’s birthday party. Teenagers tend to think that I’m cool which is always very strange to navigate, but I appreciate it, but I also know the second I said my goodbyes the birthday girl and all the other teenage guest talked about how gross the length of my armpit hair is.

• I hate when the bed is so cold that it feels wet.

• Yes- I’ve listened to Brat. Morally I stan. I am happy for Charli, but on a personal level, I am really struggling with the concept of being so Julia. I’m so far from being a Julia, I will never be so Julia, and I would be able to sit comfortably in this, but everyone seems to be relating to this album and it’s just not my lived experience. Am I lame? Am I an old maid? Is my pussy dried up? It’s been eating away at me so much that my boyfriend said unprompted the other morning, “you know being so Julia isn’t a sustainable thing, you wouldn’t have fun being so Julia” which is true, but also something unfortunate about my nature. I will never be at every party, I just can’t fucking handle it.

  

• One more thing about Brat. As a Lorde fan of course my shit was absolutely rocked by Lorde and Charli working it out on the remix. I feel relieved. I truly needed Lorde to say she was also feeling fat and shy for my own life to progress—with that being said—I spent human money ($2.99) on an AI program where I can use any voice of my choosing to create my own version of Girl so Confusing, so naturally I picked Butters and Towlie from South Park to work it out on the remix. I made this with no intention of posting it anywhere. This contribution to the culture hold absolutely no weight, especially since Butters and Towlie have only been in two scenes together in the history of South Park. Let’s pretend like this means something.

• I found this bracelet on the ground last month, it definitely was once a child’s, but finder’s keepers i don’t care. It’s pink. Looks like it was put together with one of those jewelry kits you give to tire kids out who aren’t sports-inclined. I love this thing, but like everything I cherish, I’m fearing the moment that it will break. If I like a pair of shoes, I buy three of them. When I like something I never want to be without it. 

  

• Celebrated Lana Del Rey’s birthday on my way home from a dinner in the early AM whilst listening to “Happiness is A Butterfly” on repeat (x) in the back of an Uber; a white Tesla with gull-wing doors (which I thought were called suicide doors until I Googled). I stuck my hand out the window, rolled it in the wind (x) and sang all the lyrics to myself, yet loud enough for the driver to acknowledge that I was living through a moment significant to my path as a woman. I didn’t occur to me that this behavior could effect my uber score until after.

• Had a day that was so significantly bad that I considered buying this Wildfox nightgown that Depop had suggested to me because I thought it might help me hold onto positivity.

  

• I don’t wear open-toed shoes, which I’m pretty pleased with because I’m clumsy and need to protect myself. My shoe this summer is this brown mule-y thing I bought about two years ago and never wore properly until now. Tan lines are crazy but I am safe.

  

• Something about Crumbl cookies makes me conscious of my age. It’s weird to see strip malls and shopping centers I’ve known forever overtaken by a place that seems to exist for 7 months.

• Started a new medication to help with my PMDD, the last thing I tried was birth control, and before that, I tried everything else. This feels like a massive failure because I promised myself I would try to remain unmedicated for warmer months so I could actually enjoy my summer and not feel like a zombie during the best part of the year, but here I am.

• If we talk for more than 50 minutes, know that we’re gonna cover two of my favorite speaking points; child abuse and Tracy Morgan’s episode of Tanked (x).

• Helped my friend, world-renowned perfumer Marissa Zappas (x) fill orders for her upcoming relaunch this month. I sat on her rug, leaned about her cat’s fetish for the water in the toilet, smelt a lot of good things, started watching maybe the greatest occult doc-series ever Hellier (x) ate Chomps, read the astrological charts of basically everyone we could think of, gossiped, bonded, etc. Felt like summer camp.

• French tourism in Bushwick is out of control. Tell me why I saw a French tween doing a Minor Threat pose (x) in front of Artichoke Pizza while his mom stands on the opposite side of the street yelling something in French that I don’t understand, but I imagine it must be something about smiling.  

• Been getting back into beef jerky.

• If you don’t want to talk to someone at a bar and you dont want to offend just tell them that your head is hurting and you’re apart of the beta testing for Neuralink.

• I think the song of the summer for me is definately Dicaprio by Jenna Davis (x). Jenna, who you may know as Penny, Nickle, Dime (x) or The voice of Megan from M3gan (x). Inbetween doing life stuff and sleeping I’ve been listening to this song non-stop, taking videos of myself lip-synching to it and forcing everyone on my close friends to watch them against their will. The song checks off a lot of boxes for me:

  • It’s not good.

  • It was made by a young person who got rich at a young age.

  • It’s reminiscent of the Musical.ly era

  • It’s a puzzle.

  • It’s insincerity drives it further into my heart every time I listen to it.

• My life is perfect when I think about Trisha Paytas and her two beautiful daughters.

• Spent the end of this month in California at my boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. The bride asked me joking, is this gonna end up on your substack?. I know it might not seem like it but there are many things I like keeping private, so I won’t be sharing videos of me on the dance floor surrounded by woman in the late 60s, or pictures I snuck of the father of the bride’s Let My People Go toliet seat, but I will give you this one clip of me on a “vibration” machine with context withheld because that is just for me.

• I’m back in Brooklyn now, writing this, tired. Nervous about what July has to bring. On a walk around the neighborhood, I took specifically to think about my health, and this new medication journey I’m unwillingly on, I saw a car and found it’s message to be quite apropos.

xoxo

-Mackenzie